“Where’s Mom?” Carrie asked, snuggling with the cat. Goofey cleaned his little paws.
“She’s working late tonight.” I threw an afghan over our legs. “I hope she gets home soon. I’m starved.” Actually, I wasn’t super hungry. I just didn’t like it when Mom wasn’t home. I guess I worried too much. When she was gone longer than I expected, my brain kicked in with dumb things like What would happen to Carrie and me if something happened to Mom?
A half hour later we heard the garage door rumble open. Both of us raced to the windows and rubbed holes in the frost to peek out. Mom was home! Carrie and I ran through the kitchen to greet her.
“What do my darlings want for supper?” Mom asked as we hugged.
“I got your homemade pizzas out. How’s that?” I said.
“Sounds wonderful.” She removed her shoes on the way upstairs. “I’ll make a salad in a minute.” Mom looked worn out.
“I’ll make the salad,” I called up to her. She didn’t answer. I hurried to preheat the oven. Then I pulled out a head of lettuce and began to shred it.
Carrie dropped a stack of letters on the bar. “Here’s the mail.”
I moved the mail to the desk in the corner of the kitchen. A blue envelope slipped out of the pile, landing on my foot.
I picked it up. My heart leaped as I saw my name written in bold black script. Who could it be from? The handwriting wasn’t familiar at all.
I checked out the return address. There was no name, just a street address and state. California? The last I’d heard, Daddy lived there. My heart began to pound.
The phone rang. I grabbed it off the desk.
“You called?” It was Andie.
“Yes, and it’s real important, but I’m stuck in the kitchen now, so I’ll call you after supper.”
“Can’t you tell me quick?”
“I can’t talk now.”
“Just give me a little hint,” Andie begged.
“It’s about Jared and—” I looked up to see Mom on her way downstairs. “I promise I’ll call back later.”
Quickly, I hung up. Excited and nervous all at once, I hid the letter in my pocket. Should I tell Mom? I would read it right after supper, then decide.
A letter from Daddy! This was headline news. Compared to this, the info about Jared was “Dear Abby.”
BEST FRIEND, WORST ENEMY
Chapter 6
“The pizza smells terrific,” Mom said, sitting down at the table. I had drawn the curtains across the bay windows, and the dining room light threw a warm yellow glow across the oak table. The heat vent behind me blew warm air at my feet. Now that Mom was back, it felt like home.
We bowed our heads as Mom prayed over the food. Goofey rubbed playfully against my leg under the table.
“Long day?” I asked after the amen. Mom had pulled her hair back into a ponytail and scrubbed her face clean of makeup. Her eyes looked tired.
“Let’s talk about your day, Holly-Heart.”
“Well, to start with, you’ll never guess what happened in English.” “Try me,” she said, biting into a slice of pizza.
“I was reading my story about two girls in love with the same guy, when—”
“Now, Holly,” she interrupted, “what kind of things are you writing for school assignments these days?”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I assured her. I could see this wasn’t the time to share my English-class miracle with her.
Carrie jumped right in and began talking about her math test. I knew my part of the conversation was probably over. Picking the black olives off my pizza, I tried not to think about the envelope that was poking into my leg through my jeans pocket. I didn’t want to tell Mom about the letter. Daddy was probably the last person on earth Mom would want to hear from tonight.
“I saw your principal’s wife at the post office this afternoon,” Mom said, helping herself to another piece. “Was there some trouble at your school today?”
“Uh, yeah…kind of.” I wondered how much she knew.
“Please, Holly, choose your friends wisely,” she said. It was a definite warning.
“My friends are okay, really.”
Carrie piped up. “Whose night is it to clear the table?”
“Yours.” I pointed to her. “I made the salad.”
“I set the table,” she hollered.
“Girls, girls, please,” Mom said. “Supper was wonderful, Holly-Heart. Do you mind if I go upstairs and rest?”
“Go ahead, Mom. Carrie and I will clean up the mess.”
“We’ll talk later tonight,” she said, leaving the room.
Carrie and I cleared off the table and stacked the plates in the dishwasher. I wiped the crumbs from the counter and picked off the dried and gooey pieces of cheese from the oven rack. Meanwhile, the letter burned in my pocket.
As soon as we finished in the kitchen, I headed for my room. Closing the door behind me, I pulled the letter from my pocket.
I crossed over to my window seat and perched there, holding the letter in my hands. What would it say? Staring at the unfamiliar handwriting, I realized I wasn’t ready to open it.
I hadn’t seen Daddy since I was a little girl. I’d never known what went wrong between him and Mom, and she never told me. Possibly thought I was too young. All I knew is that one day he had gone away, and after a few months, even his cards and phone calls stopped.
Soon after their divorce we started attending church. That’s when Mom became a Christian. And then Carrie and I accepted Jesus, too.
I couldn’t remember seeing Mom happier. She was excited about her faith, reading the Bible and talking to the Lord every day. Our new church friends helped us put our lives back together.
Now, after four whole years without Daddy, my world was comfortable again. Safe. Somehow, I had learned to adjust. Praying helped. I honestly believed my prayers would help bring Daddy to Jesus. Wherever he was.
I held the letter—a window to another world. Did I dare open it? I hesitated. No, it was safer the way things were, with Mom and Carrie and me on our own. I started to rip it up. Then I stopped.
Curiosity won out. I tore open the blue envelope and pulled out a handwritten letter.
I could almost hear Daddy’s voice as I read.
Dear Holly,
Perhaps you don’t remember me very well. You must be quite a young lady by now. I would like to get to know you and your sister again. How do you feel about that?
I realize it’s been a very long time since you’ve heard from me. If you find that you are interested in getting better acquainted, perhaps you could come visit me during your spring break. I have remarried, and my wife’s name is Saundra, and she has a son named Tyler. They would also love to meet you. Take your time in deciding this. My address is on the front of the envelope if you want to write.
I am sorry to tell you some sad news about your aunt Marla. She is very sick with cancer. I know she is one of your favorite aunts, and since she is my only sister, I wanted you to hear about this from me.
I love both my girls. That may be hard for you to believe, but it is true. I would enjoy hearing from you.
Love,
Daddy
I stared at the letter. It seemed like forever since we’d sat on the porch swing, singing into the night. And the books. He’d read tons of them out loud to Carrie and me. At bedtime, after supper, on Sunday afternoons. Tears stung my eyes as I stuffed the letter, blue envelope and all, back into my pocket.
I tiptoed to Mom’s bedroom, gently touching the door. Silently it glided open. I peeked in and saw Mom sprawled out on the bed. I crept inside and pulled the comforter over her. She’ll be asleep for a while, I thought as I wandered downstairs.
Carrie was relaxing on the floor in the family room, drawing. She was surrounded by colored pencils, markers, and several coloring books.
“Carrie, this place is a disaster.” I grabbed a handful of markers. “Can’t you keep these in the box?”
She ig
nored me. “Is Mommy asleep?” she asked, playing with the red clip on top of her head. Her blond hair gleamed in the lamplight.
“Mom’s napping.” I picked up a coloring book and started flipping through it.
“She’s tired a lot.”
“That’s because she works with stressed-out lawyers all day.”
“But why is she so sad?” Carrie looked up at me.
“I don’t know.” I wondered if Mom had heard about Aunt Marla. Maybe Grandma Meredith had called her. We were still close to Daddy’s parents in spite of the divorce. Grandma and Grandpa had never really gotten over it. I remembered hearing Grandpa say, “Why is our son leaving his perfectly wonderful family?”
Guess we weren’t that wonderful, I thought. Anyway, they still thought of Mom as their daughter. And Carrie and I would always be their granddaughters, no matter what.
The phone rang, and I ran upstairs to the kitchen to answer it.
“Hey, Heartless,” Andie said. “How come you didn’t call back?”
“Guess I just forgot.” I kept my voice low. “Something really major just happened.”
“What?”
“It’s my dad. I got a letter from him.”
“Really? Wow! What did he say?”
I told her all about the letter, how Mom and Carrie didn’t know about it yet, and how he wanted to see me again. I even told her about Aunt Marla’s cancer.
“That’s really sad.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I know.”
There was a short silence. Then I changed the subject. “Did you hear why those guys got called out of class today?” I asked. “Tom says he caught them smoking behind the gym during lunch.” I felt strange spreading this kind of news around, but I wanted to see if Andie would defend Jared the way I had.
“That’s hard to believe,” she said.
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think it’s one major mistake…or else someone’s lying.”
“There’s one way to track it down.” She sounded like a super sleuth. “Let’s corner Tom at his locker tomorrow first thing, since he seems to know so much about it.”
“Okay,” I agreed. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to talk to Tom Sly again, but with Andie around he’d never dare call me insulting names.
After I hung up, I pulled the letter from Daddy out of my pocket and folded it neatly. I went back down to the family room and curled up on my favorite spot on the sofa.
“Anything good on TV?” I asked Carrie.
Her eyes were glazed over. There was a Dairy Queen commercial on.
“Huh?” she whispered. I could see that the jazzy advertisement had won out over her drawing.
“Never mind,” I murmured, reaching for my red binder containing every possible question on tomorrow’s grammar test.
But I couldn’t study. Instead, I daydreamed about the contents of Daddy’s letter. I held the letter in my hand. It was strange reading his words, seeing his handwriting.
“What’s that?” Carrie asked.
“Oh, this?” I smoothed the wrinkles out of the California letter.
“It’s a letter from…”
Fast thinking required.
“Who?”
“From someone you really don’t know.” It was the truth. “I have to study now,” I said, tucking the letter into my notebook.
“Hi again,” Mom announced, breezing into the room. She was dressed in her coziest pink robe, still wearing her funky elephant slippers. “Let’s talk, honeys,” she said, fluffing the couch pillows.
“Turn off the TV,” I told Carrie.
“Come sit on my lap,” Mom said to her. Goofey jumped on her lap, too. Mom leaned over and gave me a hug. “I’ve been thinking about someone very special lately,” she began. “Do you remember Aunt Marla and Uncle Jack? And your stair-step cousins?”
I nodded. How could we forget the Christmas we spent in Pennsylvania two years ago? We’d chopped down a nine-foot giant of a tree. The tip of it bent under the lofty farmhouse ceiling. Our stair-step cousins—we called them that because each kid was a little older than the next—Carrie, Mom, and I took half the day to decorate the monstrous tree. It was great fun for all of us, except Daddy wasn’t there.
“Your aunt Marla is very ill,” Mom said softly.
“What’s wrong with her?” Carrie asked.
“She hasn’t been well for several months,” Mom said, moving Carrie to the other side of her lap. “She has cancer. I’ve just heard from Grandma that some tests show Aunt Marla might not have long to live.”
“I know about this,” I whispered.
Mom peered at me curiously.
“Would you be surprised if I told you Daddy wrote to tell me about her?” I stared down at my hands, then up at her.
“Not too surprised,” she responded. But her eyes said differently. “Grandma told me this news has changed your father.”
I watched her face. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes, when people learn that someone close to them is dying, it alters the way they view life.”
“How?” Carrie asked.
“It makes them think more about how they want to live.”
“I feel sorry for Uncle Jack and my cousins,” I said.
“Let’s pray that the Lord will give them extra strength during this painful time,” Mom said.
We joined hands in prayer for Aunt Marla, Uncle Jack, and my cousins—Stan, Phil, Mark, and Stephanie. I prayed, too, that God would touch Aunt Marla and make her well again. Slowly, tears trickled down my face. The news about Daddy’s letter and dear Aunt Marla all in the same day had caught up with me.
Mom wiped away my tears and looked into my eyes. “Do you want to talk?”
“I feel sorry for Aunt Marla. Very sad. And…” I drew in a deep breath. “Do you think I’ll ever be able to forgive Daddy for leaving?”
“That troubles you, doesn’t it, honey?”
I nodded.
“It takes a simple, honest prayer of forgiveness, and remembering each day that Jesus does the same for us when we hurt Him,” she said, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it gently.
“I used to miss Dad a lot.” I looked away. “Then, when we didn’t hear from him anymore, I figured he was gone forever. And now…”
“I know, honey.” She leaned her head against me. “I know.”
“You can read the letter,” I offered hesitantly. It seemed like the right thing, letting her see it.
“Maybe another time,” she said, her voice sounding stronger.
“Is it okay with you if I write back?”
“Of course. He’s your father, Holly—that won’t change. If you have a relationship with him, it’s because you both want it.”
Carrie had been listening to us silently, her eyes wide. “So that’s what you were hiding before.”
Mom intervened. “Maybe Holly will share it with you some other time.”
“Did I get a letter, too?” Carrie sounded hurt.
“No,” I said. “But Daddy says he wants to get to know you, too. I bet if you write him, he’ll write back.”
“Will Daddy start writing letters to Mommy?” she asked.
Mom said something that was probably pretty tough to say. “Carrie, love, your daddy is married to another woman now. He has a new family.”
Carrie never understood all this divorce stuff. Who does? I thought sadly.
“Does he have some new kids?” she asked.
“He has a stepson.”
“Will Daddy ever come visit us?” Carrie asked.
“If you see him, most likely it will be at his house,” Mom said.
I couldn’t believe she offered that. So I sucked in some air and dropped an enormous idea on her. “Dad says he hopes you’ll let me fly out to visit him during spring vacation.”
Mom sat motionless. “I’ll have to think about that.” She pulled us against her. “Now, don’t we have home
work tonight?”
While Mom coached Carrie with math flash cards, I tried to study for tomorrow’s test. But all I could think about was Daddy. Did I really want to see him again?
My notes on adverbs blurred, so I set aside my English notebook. Other things seemed more important than maintaining my B+ average. Right now, anyway.
A few hours later I was propped up in bed, reading my devotional book without the usual suggestion from Mom. Bearie-O stared straight ahead as I tucked Daddy’s letter inside my Bible, marking the verse for the day. It was Psalm 46:1. “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” How did the writers of my devotional always seem to know the perfect verses to choose…for me? For today?
I slipped under my blanket and turned out the lamp beside my bed. Bearie-O fell forward, his face pressed against my lavender comforter. I leaned my elbow against his love-scarred head.
A timid breeze caressed the aspen trees outside my window. Through the window I could see the shadowy form of their bare branches. But try as I might, I couldn’t see Daddy’s face, his tall frame, or those gentle blue eyes in my imagination. Only the outdated picture on the nightstand came into view, faint in the twilight.
BEST FRIEND, WORST ENEMY
Chapter 7
“Ready for action?” I asked Andie.
She nodded. We stood in the hallway before our first class, plotting our strategy. We had planned to corner Tom Sly and make him talk—whether he wanted to or not.
Andie grabbed my arm and we strutted down the school hallway, on our way to the stakeout.
“Super sleuths to the rescue!” I said.
We giggled.
“Got any spy glasses?” Andie said, peering around, her eyes squinting.
“Here.” I handed her an imaginary pair, and she put them on with a flourish.
“Shh, there he is.” Andie pointed at Tom, who had just finished unlocking his locker and was removing his jacket. “Remember, I’ll handle this.”
We strolled over and stood silently on either side of him. He slammed his locker shut and turned around. He looked surprised to see us, but he covered it quickly.
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